SHERlocked
by Negs of Baker Street
Summary: A Johnlock Fic that was inspired by the track 'SHERlocked'. Sherlock and John Smut. Don't like, Don't read.


SHERLOCKED

Sherlock has always been quiet when he was deep in thought, this much I knew about him, but there was something different about _this_ bout of silence. Walking from laptop, to the fireplace, to the kitchen and back, I could feel his piercing blue eyes follow my every move. Perhaps it shouldn't have unnerved me as much as it did, but there was something about it that shouted he knew something important about me. What could it be? He wasn't the type to keep his opinions of others to himself and there was nearly nothing the raven haired man didn't know about me. More so, if there was a new deduction, he would immediately come out with it so I could either confirm or disprove it. Not this time. He had figured something important out, and he was deliberately keeping quiet about it.

Sitting down in my chair across from him, I picked up one of the magazines recently delivered and opened it. "You know," I began, my voice faltering after not having been used for hours, "It's impolite to stare for that long, even for you."

"I'm thinking."

"Oh, so that gives you excuses to make everyone in the room feel uncomfortable."

"You're the only one in the room. Are you uncomfortable?" His eyes were still on me, I could practically feel them analyzing everything I did, everything I said. I didn't know what my friend was fishing for, but apparently he was waiting for me to instigate it. "I didn't notice."

A harsh laugh echoed through the room as I dropped the magazine onto my arm rest, staring at him with an incredulous sort of look. "You didn't—Of course you didn't notice. Anything else you'd care to lie about?"

"I wasn't lying. You were completely fine with me watching you; in fact, you seemed dramatize every move you made. It wasn't until you spoke that you began to feel uncomfortable. Now I'm wondering why that is."

"You're—what?" My insult fell flat after his words sank in. I '_dramatized every move'_? What, like I made a show of walking around the room? How was that even possible? "Sherlock, you've been watching me for hours. Even I have a breaking point with you."

"Yes, you do. But that doesn't answer the question as to why you did. Did you enjoy me watching you, and then fear that I was thinking something negative? That I noticed a fault in you, so you had to break the silence in hopes of me pointing it out?"

"No." I stressed, pushing myself upright only to lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees as I stared directly as Sherlock now. "I was getting uncomfortable because, as much as this may _surprise_ you, I don't like being read all the time."

"You've never complained before."

"You never listened before."

"What is there I don't know? Are you worried I'll pick up on something new that you don't want me to know?"

"I liked this better when it was quiet." The words came out curt, verging on militarily commanding. Sherlock didn't even flinch, simply continued to watch me as if I were a mouse caught in the open. I did my best to ignore the unrelenting gaze, opening and closing the newspaper, then another newspaper, and then I resorted to my laptop, typing meaningless babble as I desperately tried to forget the fact that I was under unwanted surveillance. Maybe if I just left, went to my room or out to the pub. Would he follow me? Figuring it was worth a shot, I shut my computer with a sigh to find Sherlock mere inches away from me. Originally, I might have pulled back, but this time I just froze in place, our eyes locked together for what seemed like forever. An all too familiar wave of emotion rocked my entire body as the taller man leaned an inch closer, the tip of his sharp nose brushing mine. "Sh—Sherlock?"

"Sh!" He hissed, his hands resting on either side of my shoulders as he supported himself against the back of the chair. "I'm going to try something, John… And I'd like you to remain perfectly… still."

My breath caught in my throat as Sherlock came closer and closer, his nose rubbing against mine, his head tilting to brush his cheek against mine and forcing my eyes to flutter shut. I could feel my hands shaking as his lips brushed my ear and I clutched at the chair until my knuckles were white to keep them still. "What are—What are you doing?"

There was a brief pause before Sherlock let a small slow sigh, breath warm on my ear and sending a line of goose bumps down my side. "Proving something."

His hands slid from the chair, onto my shoulders and down to my wrist. Being a doctor, I knew he was taking my pulse as soon as his two fingers rested on the inside of my wrist, gently massaging the sensitive skin, but it didn't really register why until his lips were moving from my ear and to my jaw. Was Sherlock… teasing me? Unable to resist, I tilted my head and pulled in a sharp breath as his right hand brushed the opposite side of my head. A shaky hand rested on top of his, holding the cool hand in place as his thin lips moved to my chin, and then pressed against my own lips.

At once, my eyes flung open in surprise and we were staring at one another during that first kiss, vibrant blue eyes filled with curiosity, fear and…need? Eventually I pulled back to gasp for air, but quickly pressed my lips to his again, this time letting my eyes flutter shut in absolute bliss. Once the shock had subsided, it was like a door had swung open and allowed my heart to run free, run free directly to Sherlock. Twisting my right hand around, I gripped at Sherlock's hand and pulled him onto of me to crush his slender form against my own if only for a few seconds before he scrambled to his feet, hands still holding tightly to my own. Upon his abrupt standing, I too got to my feet, hazel eyes open and looking up at him, waiting for a response of any kind.

"…" He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. The confusion in his eyes mixed with surprise and a deep passion for more. I only understood such a look because I could feel the same pool of emotions rushing beneath my skin, and I was certain he could clearly read it on my face as well, being Sherlock Holmes. "John…" He finally managed, staggering back as I stood up but he still kept his hands locked in mine.

"Proof enough?"

A smile ghosted across his porcelain face before I craned my neck to kiss him again, hands directing his to cradle my face while I clutch his waist. Lithe thumbs stroked my jaw line, pale fingers spreading over the sensitive skin of my neck before he slid them to my shoulders and pushed me back a few paces. "John-"

"Shut up, let me keep kissing you."

"No, John, I want more." He adverted my advance long enough to pull us both towards the center of the room, the door just behind us and hanging wide open in a silent invitation to the bedrooms. A genius by many means, Sherlock might have deliberately placed us here so we could rush to the rooms, but I didn't grasp what he was saying right away.

"More? What more do you want? I —Oh."

Those eyes, those luminescent blue eyes that practically glowed under the perfect light were glowing down at me as that brief shimmer of lust consumed them. Then we both understood what the other desired, and before we really had time to say more, we were pushing through Sherlock's bedroom door. I forced him against the panel of wood, flipping the sliver of metal into the locked position as I kissed his neck, his sharp jawline, and then finally his inviting lips. There was a gasp of air and a stifled moan from the back of my friend's throat, lean hands grasping my neck to kiss me harder and hold us together. With the increased intensity, I felt my courage building up until I gently bit his lower lip, flicking my tongue across the supple flesh in hopes of granted access. Sherlock returned the favor and our mouths melded together, moving attentively with dancing tongues, moving jaws and scraping teeth. Soon he began to push back, towards the bed and we fell in a pile of tangled limbs.

For a room that always seemed to be the coldest in the entire flat, it was getting nearly unbearably warm, heat radiating from the two of us as we rolled over one another, kissing and grabbing. Halting our movements for a split second, I found I was the one on top, crouching over the slimmer male with one hand supporting me while the other worked him out of his robe and Nightie-Tee. His back arched to help me slide the clothing up and over his, our groins moving together for that moment of compaction. Sherlock was harder than I expected him to be, and by the look we shared, he was equally surprised by how hard _I_ was. With a groaning release of air, I pushed him back into the covers, kissing his neck, his jutting collar bone, feeling the pallid skin beneath my tongue. Another breathless moan elicited from the man beneath me as he clawed at my shirt, pushing me away only long enough to remove it over my head and then propping himself up to kiss my lips hungrily. His heels pressed against my hips and pushed against the waistband of my jeans, slowly pushing them further and further down, bringing my boxers with them. My heart sped up in anticipation, fear and adrenaline. What were we doing? What brought this on?

Leaning over him, my dog tags jingling and swaying above his chest while I fidgeted out of my breeches and tossed them into farthest corner of the room, I realized I really didn't care what brought this on. I loved Sherlock; I had for some time but never once acted on it because I figured he wanted nothing to do with any sort of relationship. Completely bare, I dipped my head to kiss Sherlock's chest again, sliding a finger along the waist band of his pajama pants before gingerly pulling them down and away, waiting for a cry of protest, a command to stop. Sex had been a topic Sherlock and I avoided, so I really didn't know his true thoughts about it, but by the way he lifted his hips towards me to allow his pants to slide off with ease, I figured he really wanted this… In the act of pulling his trousers away, my nose brushed against his erection, forcing a small gasp from the dark haired man after such a gentle touch. I blinked, once, twice, before I kissed his hardened member white hot against my lips and he gasped again, this time moving his hand to grip my shoulder. This was the first time I ever kissed another man's cock, the first time I ever really fell for a man. For months I had been so adamantly against the public's opinion of me being gay, and yet in my argument against loving Sherlock, I hypocritically fell in love with him.

In my inexperience, I could only press my lips to his member, my breath coming in warm exhalation as I tried to figure out what to do next. The pause caused my own erection to throb irritably, as if to ask why there was such hesitation. Sherlock seemed perfectly appeased, despite me staying still for at least half a minute before I removed his pants completely and tossed them away to join mine. We paused in our advances, taking a moment to look at one another and ensure that this was what we wanted.

"Sherlock, I—I."

"Shut up, John."

"No! I hafta say this…" I crawled over him, my knees at his thighs and my eyes zeroing in on his neck as I tried to concentrate. If I looked into those eyes, I'd lose it, and we both knew that. "Sherlock, I… I love you. I have—for a while. I know that you're preoccupied with your work and—and you wouldn't—give it up for anything. But I still love you. Yes," With a small nod, I forced my eyes to meet his and said it again. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes. And I haven't the slightest clue as to what I'm doing."

We looked at one another and laughed, breathless, at ourselves for diving into this. But we weren't going to turn back, not when we were this close, this bare, and this hard for one another. Sherlock wrapped his arms around my neck and swung his legs up to trap my waist. "You're a doctor. You'll figure it out."

It wasn't the exact response I had expected, but it was certainly a Sherlock response. Our conversation had given our bodies time to relax, but as soon as Sherlock pulled me down on top of his bare body, kissing feverishly at my lips and neck, my erection returned, twice as powerful and needing as the last one. Growling I rolled my hips against him, sliding sensitive skin against sensitive skin. The friction pulled a louder grunt from my bedmate, his arms tightening around my neck as I did it a second time, then a third, his breathy murmurs driving me each thrust. Slick pre-cum was already dripping from our strained cocks, and I finally pulled myself off of Sherlock by supporting myself on one hand while I licked my other until my digits were slick and wet. One final glance at Sherlock confirmed that he was waiting eagerly for this moment, and I gently pushed one finger into him.

"Ah!" He jumped, pulling away for a moment before relaxing as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. I waited a few moments, slowly pumping my finger in and out until he seemed to grow accustomed to the foreign sensation and then inserted a second and third digit. His first fearful yelp changed to breathy moans as pleasure over rode the uncomfortable feeling. "John…!"

"Sherlock!" I growled and fell onto my forearm, face nuzzling Sherlock's neck as I pulled my fingers away from him and readied my throbbing cock at his entrance. Gently stroking my arousal, I was able to give it a slim coat of pre cum, hopefully enough to make the entrance easier. "Okay. Ready?"

"Damn it all, John. I told you I wanted this."

Without another word, I pushed myself into the warmth of Sherlock, a deep moan falling past my lips and into the crook of that slender neck. He echoed my moan, back arching slightly from the sensation of me thrusting deeper and deeper into him. My hand now free, I crouched over him again, giving me a better grip and leverage as I pulled out slowly and then pushed back into him, picking up speed with every new thrust. "Oh—Oh God, Sherlock."

Sliding onto my forearms again, I kissed his chest in between sharp outbursts of pleasure, the warmth of two bodies in such close contact causing a layer of sweat to form between us. My hand danced along the side of Sherlock's Sharp face, tracing his feature before I stroked his chest, his waist, his hips, and then wrapped my hand around his weeping member. Again he arched his back, a moan pulled from his lungs after so many months, maybe even years of being left sexually unsatisfied. Gingerly running my thumb along the sensitive head, I began to pump my fist in rhythm with my thrusts, one of his hands trailing down my chest, thighs and then to his own cock where he placed his hand over mine and helped me get him off.

"Sher-Sherlock!"

"Ah- Ah! John… Ahn!" I had found his prostate, and I pounded into him down, hitting the nerves harder and more frequently.

"Sherlock, I'm coming!"

"Ride it out." He guided my hand to be a bit faster over his erection, pre cum slicking my hand as he fell back onto the bed, moaning my name and gasping in pre ecstasy. With a low growl, I buried my face in the crook of his neck as my hot seed poured out of me, rushing deep into Sherlock, my Sherlock. No sooner did I climax, Sherlock gave out a final cry, my name, before falling back to earth and back down onto the bed. We collapsed after I slowly pulled myself out of my dearest Flat Mate, my head resting on his heaving chest after such exertion. "John…"

"Hm?" I could feel myself drifting in and out, despite it being late afternoon and the sun was still up.

"I love you too… I have for a while. I just didn't know what-?"

"Shut up, Sherlock, and come here." Tugging the sheets over our bodies, I wrapped my arms around him, burying my nose in his unruly black hair as I drifted off into a very pleasant nap. And the calm silence had never said so much…


End file.
